


Love Goes Beyond

by MidnightShadeux



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Ghosts, Spoilers for Season 2, The Thomas Thorne Affair, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightShadeux/pseuds/MidnightShadeux
Summary: Isabelle Button is on her deathbed and as she says goodbye to her family she notices another of her loved ones hiding in the shadows.
Relationships: Isabelle Higham/Francis Button, Isabelle Higham/Thomas Thorne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	Love Goes Beyond

**Author's Note:**

> I was annoyed that Isabelle never found out about Francis' deceit and that Thomas still loved her, so I decided to write something to rectify that. Unfortunately I suck at finishing fics, so I might not get to that point and we'll just be left with this sadder-than-intended mess.

Of the two of them, Isabelle died first.

She had lived a good life; she’d reached the grand age of forty-three, married a good man, had five beautiful children, lived in a luxurious house with enough wealth to keep her and her family more than comfortable. She’d met a wide range of interesting and unusual characters, had close friends who would do anything for her, and had numerous exciting stories to tell – exuberant balls, meeting famous authors, travelling the country, she’d done it all.

So lying on her deathbed, her husband’s hand clasped loosely in her own and surrounded by her grown children, she had no regrets.

_Well…_

She pushed the thought down, chastising herself for thinking of _him_ and the anguish he had brought onto her young self when she was already in pain due to her illness. She did not need to remember that, not now. This was the time for her to enjoy the presence of her family for the last time, not ponder ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys'.

She let out a deep sigh and sank further into the mattress as a little more of her energy left her body. She glanced around at those assembled and smiled.

“It’s almost time,” she said, her voice almost inaudible with how weak it was.

Her children shifted restlessly near her and her youngest daughter sobbed. Francis squeezed her hand a tad tighter.

Her eldest, Frederick, drew himself up and nodded. Always her brave solider, defending his siblings and taking charge, he was the first to respond, “I will miss you dearly, mother. No woman will ever live up to you.” He stepped towards her and bent to kiss her cheek. Isabelle didn’t miss the glistening of tears in his eyes hiding behind the façade of strength.

“Thank you, darling. My brave, brave boy.” She tried to lift her hand to stroke his cheek but she could not quite manage it. Seeing her struggle, Frederick gently lifted her hand and raised it to his cheek, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes.

One by one, her children stepped forward to kiss her farewell and express their love. Katherine, her youngest, barely out of adolescence, practically flung herself at her mother and hugged her tightly.

“Please do not go, mother. Please.”

Isabelle’s heart broke at the deep sorrow in Katherine’s voice and she wanted nothing more than to reassure her baby girl that she would never leave her. Alas, she would not make a promise she could not keep.

“Unfortunately I must, baby,” she said gently, hugging Katherine closer to her body with all her strength and tears in her own eyes, “Nobody can stay here forever. We must all pass on to the next life eventually. Besides,” she said, trying to sound jovial to lighten the mood, “It would be terribly dull being trapped here for eternity. Think of how much cleaning I would need to do! I would never stop!”

“That’s what maids are for,” Katherine replied stubbornly, but there was a slight smile on her face which Isabelle took as a triumph. The children chuckled, smiles gracing their own features and the air feeling lighter. That was what she wanted: to leave this plain surrounded by love and happiness, not sadness and tears.

She turned to face her husband sitting in the chair at her bedside, who had not spoken a word to her since their children had arrived.

“You will be okay, my love,” she assured him. She knew it to be true; Francis was a strong man, resilient in the face of hardship, and he would not let her death destroy him. He would power through, perhaps remarry, and enjoy what life he had left based on the foundations they had built together. Perhaps he needed reminding though. Perhaps that was why he had not yet said his goodbyes, kissed her, or declared his love as the others had so easily. Or perhaps he did not want to seem weak in front of their children. She knew he was not one to display his emotions for all to see, being of the firm belief that feelings made you vulnerable. Whenever she had tried to convince him otherwise, he had firmly contradicted her with the quiet confidence of a man who was completely certain in his beliefs, repeating the same anecdote every time:

_“I knew a man who let his burning love for a woman blind him to anything but her. He let his passion distract him from what was happening around him, and it cost him his life. I will not make the same mistake.”_

Isabelle thought it was sad. Not for the man in the story, although that was also tragic, but for Francis. She could not imagine living life constantly on edge that if one showed even a hint of affection, it would destroy them. At least the man had _lived_ and felt that all-encompassing passion, expressed his emotions and been unafraid of his love. In her opinion, a life without that would feel empty and cold. She was not sure what Francis felt. ~~~~

Even if Francis was determined not to show emotion, Isabelle wanted _something_ from him on her deathbed so she kept talking, trying to draw it out of him, to encourage him to speak.

“You have the house and the money, so you will be comfortable, and you have the children so you should not be lonely. I expect a grandchild soon, too,” she added, shooting a glance at Patricia, her middle girl. Patricia’s blush was visible even in the dim candlelight and she nodded tearfully. Isabelle smiled before turning back to her husband. “I expect nothing but happy stories of laughter and love when you finally join me.”

Francis simply nodded.

No tears, no smile either, and there was something in his eyes she didn’t like.

She could not help but be disappointed and a little unnerved.

Isabelle sighed, accepting she would not receive her desired declaration from him. As soon as she had acknowledged that, she felt her chest grow cold and her energy leave her completely. She closed her eyes and let out one long, shaky breath as her spirit prepared itself to leave her body.

 _“It’s happening!”_ a girlish voice said excitedly.

Isabelle would have frowned in confusion if she could – it was not a voice she recognised, certainly not one of her daughters.

She could not do anything though. She could not move her arms, she could not open her eyes, she could not breathe. Isabelle would be terrified at her assumed paralysis if her head did not feel so fuzzy; as if a fog had descended over her brain and made it impossible to string a coherent thought together. She felt like she was floating, disconnected from everything around her and something in her knew her time was now. ~~~~

_She won’t stay…”_

She found she was wrong to conclude she could not move as her eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. She frantically searched the room, gaze skimming over her family as she focused on the room as a whole. Her heartbeat sped up and her breath stuttered for reasons other than her impending death when her eyes finally landed on him.

There, leaning against a wall with his shoulders hunched and arms folded, practically hugging himself as he looked at the floor was her first – and arguably her greatest – love. He was precisely as she remembered him, if not more beautiful: the same soft chestnut curls, the same long limbs and slim figure with a firm chest, the same perfect lips. She only wished they were raised in a smile as they had been when he was alive rather than down-turned in sadness as they were now.

He seemed to feel the intensity of her gaze as he stopped staring at the floor and his big brown eyes, full of sorrow and yearning, met her old and tired ones. She could not help the elated smile that graced her lips at the sight of him, focusing on him and only him for fear that if she looked away he would disappear. His eyes widened in surprise at her attention and he drew himself up, brushed imaginary dirt off his waistcoat and smiled softly back at her, unsure and uncertain.

She knew he was a figment of her imagination, something her subconscious had conceived in her delirious state as she toed the line between this life and the next. It was impossible for her love – her long dead love – to be standing in her bedroom. She couldn’t help but be grateful, though, as it ensured her one wish was fulfilled: she was now surrounded by everyone she had ever loved on her dying day.

She tried to summon enough of her voice to tell them that – that she loved them all – but sadly failed. All she could manage was to mouth the words and hope someone noticed.

She focused back on those big brown eyes she had loved so much, practically drowning in them. She knew her time was now and wanted them to be the last things she saw. The perfect man seemed to know this too as his smile turned sad and he nodded at her in encouragement, urging her to finally let go.

She knew he did not love her in return, that she had made up their love story from the start, and she knew he likely would not shed a tear about her death. Still, as she finally drifted off, she had one word on her lips – her last words in this life and her first words in the next.

_“Thomas.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Drop me a comment if you liked it and can spare a few minutes xxx


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